What Matters Most
by The Lilac Elf of Lothlorien
Summary: Harry has dealt with plenty of hardships in the past, but in his 5th year, that might all be over. However, hard times are just around the corner for one of Harry's best friends.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES: So if you follow my work, you know that I tend to have something of a fixation on having Harry dealing with some sort of physical disability. For the record, this has less to do with wanting Harry to suffer, and more because I see it as an intriguing challenge. I have never personally face any physical disabilities, so it kind of stretches my creative muscles to imagine how other people would deal with it. And the 'Harry Potter' world makes for an extra challenge because I have to figure out how a disabled witch or wizard functions in the wizarding world.

With all that said, this story is going to be somewhat different. While Harry will have to deal with a few physical issues in the first few chapters, the rest of the story will focus on how Harry's experience helps one of his friends deal with their own upcoming disability.

And to reiterate something used in previous stories, since Harry and other characters are deaf in this story, words in **bold** indicate that someone is using sign language.

STORY SUMMARY: Harry Potter has always dealt with hardships, but in his 5th year, a new friend may have the key to overcoming the last of his problems. But when tragedy strikes one of his best friends, Harry will have to help them through their own struggles.

* * *

HARRY POTTER: What Matters Most

Looking at his reflection in the glass wall of his hospital room, Harry Potter frowned as he took in his appearance. **'Why does** _ **my**_ **life always have to suck?'** he signed, grimly.

Olivia Evans, his aunt, brushed some of her nephew's hair out of his face, making him turn his gaze towards her. Using sign language as she spoke aloud, she replied. "You don't look _that_ bad."

Harry raised one eyebrow, skeptically. **'Seriously?'** Lying back against his pillows, Harry again turned his attention to his reflection, cringing as he took stock of himself, thinking of the causes of his injuries, both past and present.

First there were the mismatched eyes—one a bright green and the other brown tinged with blue. The green eye was his own, but the other was a magical artificial eye, necessitated after his abusive uncle, Vernon Dursley, had hit him in the face so hard it had caused multiple facial fractures and permanent damage to the optic nerves of Harry's left eye. The eye itself had been surgically removed, replaced with the fake one a year later.

Then there was the scar running from underneath his right ear to the corner of his mouth where he'd had surgery for a badly broken jaw.

Meningitis when he was 4 had taken Harry's hearing and his left leg just below the knee. Once the Dusleys had taken him home, neglecting to mention that Dudley had contracted chickenpox, Harry had gotten sick as well and had developed a fast-moving infection in the rest of his leg, necessitating further amputation. There wasn't enough of a stump left for Harry to use a prosthetic and so he'd had to quickly get used to hopping about or using whatever he could as a makeshift crutch.

His gaze travelling downwards, Harry reached up and felt the tracheostomy tube in his throat. Two months before his Aunt Olivia and his Uncle Tucker had found him when he was 6 years old—along with his godfather, Sirius Black—Vernon Dursley had tried to choke Harry to death. As a result, Harry's trachea had suffered horrendous damage and his vocal cords had been removed completely. The injuries had been so severe that the doctors and healers didn't even think Harry would be able to use an artificial voice box.

Once he'd woken up in the hospital after Vernon had tried to kill him, Harry had been told that his uncle was in jail and that after he—Harry—had recovered enough, he'd be sent to live with a foster family as soon as caretakers could be found that were capable of dealing with Harry's physical disabilities.

Of course, that recovery was expected to be long and difficult, since Vernon had not only strangled Harry, but he'd also thrown him down the stairs, causing Harry to break his back in 3 places, paralyzing him from the neck down.

For over two months, Harry had been alone in his hospital room, with only various doctors, nurses, or orderlies coming in to take care of him or check on how he was healing.

Then, one afternoon after a nurse had changed his urinary catheter, three strangers came into the room, announcing themselves as Harry's aunt, uncle, and godfather.

Even after hearing about Harry's physical condition and the extensive list of at-home care instructions, Olivia and Tucker Evans had promised to help him through his long recovery, giving Harry his first glimmer of hope—especially after his godfather, Sirius, told him about magic and that it could be used to help fix Harry's injuries.

Magic had, indeed, done a lot of good and when he was 9, Harry was able to walk with crutches, using a magically adapted prosthetic leg. Although the damage to his throat was declared 'beyond meaningful repair', magically adapted hearing aids had helped restore Harry's hearing and by the time he turned 11, Harry was able to transfer from Archimedes Academy for Disabled Witches and Wizards to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Over his past 4 years at Hogwarts, Harry had made friends and gradually regained most of his physical strength. He'd even been able to compete in the Triwizard Tournament this past year—even if he had been entered against his will by a former servant of Lord Voldemort who had wanted to seize power for himself.

Barty Crouch, Jr. had used the Triwizard Cup—which he'd turned into a portkey—to bring Harry and Cedric Diggory, one of Harry's classmates, to an old graveyard where he'd tortured The Boy Who Lived before Cedric had managed to apparate both teenagers away.

His body again battered and broken, Harry found himself in Rowena Medical Center in Montrose, Scotland, feeling his world crashing around him as he heard the healers tell him of his grim prognosis:

He'd fractured his spine again and he was paralyzed from the waist down. A few charms had been used to stabilize Harry's spinal cord and prevent further injury while a back and neck brace offered additional support while Harry was awake. He'd been told that—as long as he was careful—the brace could be removed if he was lying down so he could sleep more comfortably.

Crouch had used a choking spell on Harry that had damaged his esophagus, preventing him from swallowing anything other than liquids. The Death Eater had also blasted off Harry's right leg leaving just a bit more of a stump than Harry had of his left leg which had received further damage from the magical blast.

Harry's vocal cords had been magically removed and even when he tried to whisper, no sound came out.

The worst part was that—because his injuries were caused by magic—the healers didn't believe that anything could be done to fix Harry.

Sirius Black had not been inclined to trust the initial assessment and had insisted—demanded, rather—that Harry be transferred to Waldenmeyer Memorial Hospital back in New York City in the States.

The healers and muggle doctors there had examined Harry thoroughly and believed that with various spells and muggle surgical procedures, they could undo much of the damage inflicted on Harry.

However, Harry thought as he looked at his body, it was a long, slow process. Still… magical and medical healing had advanced since Harry had first been in this situation and his regular doctor—Jeremy Brandt—had told him about new spells and potions that could help even Harry's older injuries.

Olivia tapped Harry's arm to again get her nephew's attention before pointing to her watch and then at Harry's stomach. Watching Harry pull down the blankets and pulling up the t-shirt he wore underneath the brace around his back and neck, Olivia went to a bag sitting on the chair in the corner and withdrew a large syringe and two tubes of a viscous, cream-colored substance. After giving Harry a reassuring smile, Olivia injected both vials of nutritional formula into the port inserted in the teenager's stomach.

After getting Harry settled again, Olivia gently stroked the side of his face in a motherly fashion before saying aloud, "That's my boy."

Harry tried to give his aunt a smile in return, but he couldn't do it. Looking at the back brace keeping his injured spine immobile, the feeding tube in his abdomen necessitated by his inability to swallow properly, and the empty spaces were his legs had been, Harry once again felt overwhelmed.

Back at Rowena Medical Center, the healers had only the slightest rudimentary knowledge of muggle medicine—just enough to use certain equipment and techniques to keep patients alive. As such, Harry had been told that he'd have to get used to being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life and receiving regular doses of nutritional formula via a feeding tube installed in his stomach. The only minor upside was that he didn't have to worry about the fact that he had no control of his bladder or bowel functions, as the magical band around his waist used sensory and vanishing charms to take care of things when he had had to go to the bathroom.

Seeing that Harry was looking pretty tired, Olivia touched her nephew's hand to get his attention before she signed, **'You should get some rest, sweetie. Do you want me to help you get the brace off?'**

"I'll help you, Liv," Harry's uncle, Tucker, said as he entered the room, setting his jacket on the chair containing the bag with Harry's supplies. He went to Harry's bedside, keeping his nephew's back straight while Olivia took the brace off. Gently easing Harry back down in bed, keeping him slightly propped up and making sure his back was properly supported, Tucker said, "I'll be right here, Harry. Get some sleep."

Harry nodded ever so slightly, setting his glasses on the table while Olivia set the brace where his feet would have been before he closed his eyes, trying to sink into a restful slumber.

' **How's he doing?'** Tucker asked as he and Olivia 'spoke' near the door to the room. Even though Harry didn't have his hearing aids in, his aunt and uncle didn't want to disturb him.

Olivia shrugged, uncertainly, thinking of how long it had been since the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. **'He's been like this for over a month now. I hope they can do something for him because right now, Harry's… resigned, I guess.'**

Tucker wanted to reassure his wife, but he—like Harry—was realistic and knew that it was very possible that Harry might not regain much use of his body. **'Harry's tough,'** he said, finally. **'No matter what happens, we'll find a way to deal with it.'**

Nodding thoughtfully as she watched Harry, Olivia asked, **'When is Sirius coming to stay with Harry?'**

' **He'll be here in about 8 hours,'** Tucker replied, looking at his watch first. **'When did Harry have his last dose of formula?'**

Checking her own watch, Olivia said, **'About 15 minutes ago. So he should have another dose around 4p.m.'**

Seeing that Olivia was having trouble keeping herself together, Tucker hugged her before whispering in her ear, "Go home. Get some rest. I'll call you if there are any problems, okay?"

Olivia gave him a kiss and grabbed her jacket and purse before heading out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Harry awoke later that evening when he felt someone drumming rhythmically on his arm. Looking up, he found himself smiling for the first time in almost two months when he saw one of his best friends sitting on his bed. **'Hey, Sam.'**

Samantha Carmichael gave Harry a smile in return as she handed him his glasses before signing, **'Heard you got a little roughed up at Hogwarts this year.'**

' **Yeah, something like that,'** Harry replied, adjusting the bed so he was sitting up more.

Samantha had attended Archimedes Academy as a child while she was undergoing chemotherapy treatments for leukemia and then transferred to Ilvermorny School of Magic in Massachusetts. "Well, hopefully you'll be fixed up in no time," Sam said as she signed.

' **That's what everyone keeps saying,'** Harry signed, looking at the door to his hospital room which had opened to reveal his uncle, Tucker.

"Hi, Samantha," Tucker said, warmly, before gesturing to the back and neck brace. "Want to give me a hand?"

Samantha looked uncertainly between Tucker and Harry but asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Just keep Harry sitting up as straight as possible," Tucker replied after helping his nephew sit up even more.

Sam nodded, standing and moving around so she could put an arm around Harry and he could put his left arm around her. Looking at Harry to make she wasn't doing anything to hurt him, she felt her heart rate speed up as she realized how close their faces were.

Backing away a bit as Tucker made sure the brace was in the proper position and secure, Sam met Harry's gaze and she felt herself blush.

Once Harry was situated and he had his hearing aids in place, he gestured at the bed. **'You want to sit down again?'**

With a smirk, Tucker looked at the two teenagers before he said, "I'll leave the two of you alone."

Once his uncle was gone and Sam had resumed her seat on the bed, Harry found he was incredibly nervous with talking to the young woman. After a while, he signed, **'I… I was tortured. This… former crony of Voldemort wanted to become the new 'Dark Lord' and he used my blood to destroy the crude body Voldemort had regained.'**

Sam reached out and put a hand on Harry's arm. "I'm so sorry, Harry." Looking at the brace and the empty space where Harry's legs would have been, she asked, "So… What are the doctors and healers saying? Can they fix you up or…?"

Harry would have shrugged if he could. **'The pediatric surgeon—Dr. Norton—said that they can fix my esophagus and possibly rebuild my throat. So if that goes well I'll at least be able to get rid of the feeding tube and maybe the tracheostomy tube. And Healer Hillary Thomas said that there are some spells and potions to repair the damage to my spine so I won't be paralyzed anymore.'**

"What about your legs?" Sam wanted to know. "Or… your voice?"

Harry pondered the question, trying to keep himself calm. Crying with the trach tube often led to the tube becoming clogged which, in turn, led to him being unable to breathe. This often resulted in having the tube suctioned out and Harry being given a sedative. **'Barty Crouch, Jr.—the Death Eater who did this to me—used dark magic. There's a… a strong possibility that the healers won't be able to regrow my legs… or my vocal cords.'**

Hugging Harry as gently as she could, Sam wanted to find the bastard that had hurt her friend and beat the crap out of him. Pulling back, she asked, "So are you going back to Archimedes Academy in the fall? Or can you still go to Hogwarts?"

' **I don't know,'** Harry admitted. **'I actually haven't thought about that part yet.'**

"I just ask," Sam said, plucking up her courage and going for it. "—because it would be easier for us to date if we were both at Hogwarts." When Harry looked confused, she smiled as she explained. "You remember when we were 10 and my parents split up? Well, Dad got a job in Aboyne, Scotland and he thought that if I transferred to Hogwarts, he and I could visit on Hogsmeade trips."

' _Date',_ Harry thought, dumbstruck. _'She wants to date. She wants to date_ ME _.'_ After doing the ASL equivalent of stammering for a few moments, he finally said, **'Samantha, look at me. Right now, I'm paralyzed, I lost BOTH legs, I'm 'eating' through a tube in my stomach, and I have a tube in my neck because my throat is so messed up I can't breathe otherwise. Oh, yeah! AND I can't talk because my vocal cords are completely GONE!'** Taking a minute or two to calm down, Harry took a deep breath and went on. **'If I'm** _ **really**_ **lucky, the doctors and healers can fix the paralysis, parts of my throat, and** _ **maybe**_ **one of my legs. But I'm always going to have some sort of disability to deal with.'**

"Harry, I promise you—I'm okay with that," Sam insisted, gently squeezing Harry's forearm. "I wanted to ask you out last summer, but I was too scared to. And when I heard about what happened, I wondered how I would have felt if you'd died and I never told you how I really felt about you." With a dry smirk, she added, "Besides… if it makes you feel better, I still feel like a walking time-bomb even though I'm still in remission."

But Harry wasn't about to let the issue go and he pressed on. **'I just don't want you to feel… like you're stuck with me when you could be with someone who can go on long, romantic walks with you… Or even say your name out loud.'**

Sam laughed and put her hands on either side of Harry's face, her chocolate brown eyes meeting Harry's mismatched eyes. "I want to date _you._ Okay?" And before Harry could stop her, she kissed him full on the lips.

At first, Harry wasn't sure what to do as Sam's lips lingered on his, but as he began kissing her back, he felt some strange sort of instinct taking over and before either of them knew it, they were in a full make-out session.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled away, a bit breathless. Looking at how calm Harry was, she cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Dude, was I that bad? How come you're not out of breath?"

Harry grinned as he pointed to the trach tube. **'I'm breathing through this, remember?'**

Sitting back, Sam shook her head in amazement. "How do you _not_ have a girlfriend yet? With the trach you could be a make-out machine!"

Realizing that he'd never actually responded to Sam's desire to date him, Harry pointed to himself then to Sam as he signed, **'I have a girlfriend. You.'**

* * *

 _September 1_ _st_

"You're sure Harry said he would be here, Hermione?" Ron Weasley asked for the fifth time as he and Hermione Granger waited on Platform 9 ¾.

Hermione, though she was beginning to lose patience somewhat, just nodded, looking about at students and family members milled about, wishing friends and family members greetings and farewells. "Harry's last letter assured us he'd be coming back to Hogwarts," Hermione replied, giving a casual wave to a few classmates as they boarded the Hogwarts Express. "I don't see him, though, and it's almost—"

"Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione ignored the voice for a moment, still looking about, until she saw the stunned expression on Ron's face. "Ron, what is it?"

Ron turned Hermione about and pointed to the most recent group to come through the barrier to the muggle train platform.

Standing—or sitting, rather—between Sirius Black and a young woman with strawberry blonde hair and brown eyes was Harry. "Hey, guys," Harry said, one hand holding his wand with the tip touching his throat and the other on one of the wheels of the wheelchair he sat in.

"Harry, you… you're talking!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over to hug her best friend along with Ron.

Sirius Black looked at the group of teenagers and said, hurriedly, "Perhaps you lot should get on the train first before delving into explanations?"

' **Good point,'** Harry signed as he let Sirius steer him towards where a ramp was set up by one of the entrances to the train. Twisting around to look at his godfather, Harry again put the tip of his wand to his throat before he said, "You've got the trunks, Sirius?"

"And Samantha has your knapsack along with her purse, backpack, and duffle bag," Sirius replied. "You've got your extra batteries for your hearing aids?"

"Some in my bag and a bunch in my trunk," Harry assured him as Sirius pushed him up the ramp and down the hall to a magically expanded compartment. Once Harry, Sam, Ron, and Hermione had entered the compartment, Sirius took his leave after wishing all four teenagers a safe journey.

Once the group was settled in, Hermione fixed Harry with a look that was both curious and excited. "I can't believe you're actually talking."

"A magically adapted artificial voice box," Harry explained, simply before launching into the full story of the past 3 months or so, including the reparative procedures he'd been through.

When Harry was done, it was nearing 1 in the afternoon and when the witch with the lunch trolley came by, Harry dug out his money and bought a huge armful of snacks and sweets.

' **Fixing the damage to my esophagus took the longest,'** Harry signed as he ate. **'I only just got the okay to eat solid foods again about a little over a week ago.'**

Confused, Ron asked, "Then how did you…?"

Harry swallowed his bite of chocolate frog before lifting up his shirt, exposing the healing incision where the feeding tube had been removed. Lowering his shirt, he raised his wand to his throat once more and said, "I'd had a special tube inserted into my stomach. I'd get these injections of a nutritional formula about every 4 hours."

"That sounds horrible," Ron replied, cringing at the idea of having meals injected directly into the stomach.

' **The tracheostomy tube was worse,'** Harry went on, finishing his chocolate frog before washing it down with a healthy swig of pumpkin juice. Pointing to the scar on his throat, he added aloud, "The plastic surgeon was able to close up the hole in my throat but he said I'd probably have the scar for a long time." Smiling at Samantha, he said, "Luckily I have a girlfriend who digs a broken guy."

Hermione and Ron exchanged shocked looks before turning back to Harry and saying in unison, "'Girlfriend'?"

"Harry and I have been friends since we were little." Samantha explained. "We met at Archimedes Academy for Disabled Witches and Wizards and we found out we lived in the same neighborhood." Taking Harry's hand in hers and giving it a squeeze, she shrugged as she looked at her boyfriend. "Then this summer, I told Harry that I love him."

' **I love you, too,'** Harry signed before giving Sam a kiss.

Ron looked from Sam to Harry and in particular, what was left of Harry's legs. "And she's okay with…?"

Harry's more upbeat mood sank a bit as he looked down at the short stumps that had once been his legs. "Like I said… Uh… The spell Crouch used to blast my right leg was dark magic, so the healers couldn't grow it back. And, uh… since part of the curse hit what was left of my left leg…"

Harry turned away from his friends, trying to hold back how he felt about having his life turned upside down.

Sam put a hand on Harry's shoulder before looking at Ron and Hermione. "The curse caused some nerve damage in Harry's legs and when the doctors and healers tried fitting Harry with new prosthetics… the sensory charms wouldn't connect. Harry tried for weeks, but he couldn't walk."

Unable to hold everything in, Harry began sobbing, stammering as he signed. **'I'm never going to walk again. I-I-I could barely stand with the prosthetics and when I t-tried to walk they wouldn't move…'** Looking at the stumps, he sniffled loudly before adding, **'I'm going to be in this wheelchair for the rest of my life.'**

While Hermione comforted Harry, Ron recounted to his best friend what had happened after Harry and Cedric returned from the 3rd task of the Triwizard Tournament. "After Dumbledore and Sirius took you to Rowena Medical Center, Snape and McGonagall went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They found the _real_ Alastor Moody locked in that multi-compartment trunk of his."

' **Did they ever find Crouch, Jr.?'** Harry asked, curious as well as nervous. If Crouch reached out to Voldemort's followers and convinced them to join him, it would be a disaster of unspeakable proportions.

Ron shook his head, grimly. "The Ministry of Magic is in an uproar because Crouch, Jr. apparently sent an elaborate letter to _The Daily Prophet_ detailing his deception last year and his plan to destroy You-Know-Who and kill you."

Samantha nodded, thoughtfully. "The wizarding newspapers in New York were constantly reporting about the whole thing as well. The Magical Congress of the United States of America has sent out agents to monitor Death Eater families and supporters and they're creating a joint agency with the muggle government so that they're apprised of the situation."

As Ron turned his attention to Harry once again, he tried to think of the best way to phrase his query. "Harry, what are you going to do about… quidditch?"

Hermione smacked Ron hard in the upper arm but Harry held up a hand to stop her from continuing the assault. "I'm _not_ giving up quidditch," Harry insisted. "Sirius ordered a new custom-made broom for me." As he thought about his situation, Harry took a deep breath and went on. "The new model will have a bunch of charms to keep me put while I'm flying around… since I don't have legs anymore."

"And everyone on the Gryffindor quidditch team knows basic sign language," Hermione added, thinking of Harry's voice issues. "So you don't always have to use your wand to speak." A thought occurred to her and she frowned slightly as she asked, "What about the staircases?"

"Sirius said that Dumbledore was going to charm the staircases to become escalators," Harry replied, before taking another deep breath to keep from losing it again. "And Dumbledore was going to provide a private bathroom for me."

Ron studied Harry for a while and after Harry finished off his second chocolate frog, he asked, "How are you doing, mate? Really?"

Harry shrugged, uncertainly, one hand tapping the wheelchair absentmindedly. How was he doing? He was… "I don't know," Harry said, honestly. "Uh… some days are less awful than others. I've even had one or two days that bordered on good. I'm angry… frustrated… a little depressed…" Shrugging again, he added, "Pretty normal for someone who's had their whole life turned upside down, right?"

"You've dealt with worse," Ron reminded his best friend. "And, yeah… this is especially awful, but if anyone could handle it, it's you." After thinking for a moment, he began to have an idea but just as he started to say it out loud, he changed his mind, not wanting to get Harry's hopes up too soon. Shifting subjects, he looked at Samantha, interestedly. "So how come you were at Archimedes Academy? You don't look like you've got any disabilities. Unless you're deaf, like Harry?"

Samantha shook her head, tucking some hairs that had come loose from her ponytail as she replied, "When I was 8, I was diagnosed with leukemia. My parents were worried about whether or not I'd be well enough to go to Ilvermorny… or if I'd even be alive," she added under her breath. "And since Archimedes accepts students as young as 6, I went there while I was going through chemotherapy."

"How long were you in treatment for?" Hermione asked, curiously.

"From when I was 9 to just after my 13th birthday," Sam replied, grimly. When Hermione looked shocked and horrified, Sam went on. "Specifically, I had chronic lymphocytic leukemia. My parents thought I'd come down with a really bad flu, but then when they took me to Waldenmeyer Memorial Hospital, one of the healers discovered that it was cancer."

"But almost 4 years…" Hermione said, amazed. "That's a long time to be sick."

Sam nodded in agreement. "You're telling me. My numbers would start to improve, so the school physicians and healers thought it was safe to ease up on my chemo treatments. Then the cancer would start getting worse. My last year at Archimedes was spent solely in the medical wing. I was on 6 different medications and about the same amount of potions. I think I was hooked to an IV drip non-stop." With a smile, she concluded, "But, I finally beat it and my last test results showed no signs of recurrence, so hopefully I'll be okay." Hearing the beeping of her digital watch, she rolled her eyes and dug into her backpack. "Of course, that doesn't mean I'm off the hook, medically speaking."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched as Sam pulled several plastic pill containers along with a small, capped syringe. After taking a pill from each container, Sam swallowed them down with a healthy swig of pumpkin juice before injecting the contents of the syringe into the IV port in her upper chest. Looking at the others as she capped the used needle and put it in a zippered bag, Sam explained. "According to my oncologist—"

' **That's a doctor that specializes in cancer,'** Harry explained to Ron.

"—I'm to stick to a rigorous post chemotherapy cocktail for 3 years," Sam finished as she put the pill containers back in her bag.

Thinking on everything that Sam had been through, Ron hated asking the question, but his curiosity got the better of him. "You probably don't want to think about it," he wanted to know. "—but what happens if you get sick again?"

Although Hermione gave Ron a disapproving look, Sam's expression was pensive and anxious. "I think about the cancer coming back all the time," she admitted. "Every cold… every bruise and tired spell… I start to panic. I've got a about a year and a half of post-chemo treatments and medications before my oncologist says I'm totally out of the woods." Thinking of what she'd been told if a relapse were to occur, she went on. "If the leukemia comes back, I'm likely going to end up in the hospital having just about every chemotherapy drug known to man shoved into my system. And if that doesn't work… a bone marrow transplant."

"What's that?" Ron asked, although it didn't sound like anything he'd ever want to go through.

"You don't want to know," Hermione said, sharply, her face paling a bit.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station just after 7pm, and after the train corridors had emptied, Harry, Samantha, Hermione, and Ron headed out, Harry using the ramp set up near the one of the exits on the train.

Wheeling over to the horseless carriages, it took the combined assistance of Hermione, Ron, and Sam to get Harry inside with Ron getting in last along with the folded wheelchair.

On the ride to Hogwarts Castle, Harry thought of his return to the school and an unpleasant thought suddenly dawned on him. Since his wand was in the pocket of his robes, Harry signed, **'How much crap do you think Malfoy and his cronies are going to give me for being in the wheelchair?'**

"Don't give them a moment's thought," Hermione instructed him, sternly. "Who cares what he thinks, anyway?"

Nodding, Harry looked out the window as the castle got closer. It wasn't just the Slytherin students he was worried about. Even with Barty Crouch, Jr.'s full confession, there were some people who thought that the Death Eater's reemergence was an elaborate hoax. There were even some who though that Harry had caused his own injuries to garner sympathy.

How many of the students at Hogwarts would believe the truth and how many would believe the lies?

xxx

Heading into the Great Hall, Harry gave a start when Samantha suddenly grabbed his shoulder, exclaiming excitedly, "Oh, my God, are you _kidding_ me?!"

Harry turned to look at her, confused at what Sam was so animated about. But when he looked at the staff table and scanned the row of teachers, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw a woman in her 30's signing to a young man sitting next to her. Looking at Sam, Harry signed quickly, **'Is that who I think it is?'**

" **Oh, my God… Harry, we** _ **have to**_ **get an autograph! The students at Archimedes Academy are going to** _ **freak**_ **when they find out!'**

"What the bloody Hell are the two of you on about?" Ron asked, completely confused.

But before Harry or Sam could explain, Professor Minerva McGonagall—the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts—appeared behind them. "Miss Carmichael," McGonagall said, briskly. "If you would please follow me so that you can be sorted?"

Sam followed McGonagall to the crowd of 1st year students and when her name was called, she quickly strode over to the wooden stool, sitting down as she looked at the scruffy looking hat McGonagall placed on her head.

" _Brazen, intelligent, loyal, clever…"_ the hat said, interestedly. _"My, my, but you are an interesting one, aren't you? Where to put you?"_

Unclear if the Sorting Hat was expecting some sort of input from her, Samantha asked, "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

The hat chuckled, softly and replied, _"If given the option, you'd choose Gryffindor, wouldn't you? You could be with Harry Potter and you would find a bold spirit you never knew you possessed. But I think you will find your true path in… RAVENCLAW!"_

As Sam headed towards the Ravenclaw table, she looked over at Harry who was clearly disappointed. **'Sorry,'** she signed, hastily.

' **Don't worry about it,'** Harry assured her with an encouraging smile. **'We'll talk later.'**

Taking her seat next to a girl with dirty blonde hair, a dreamy expression, and the most adorable pair of radish earrings, Sam looked a bit uneasy as she turned towards the staff table as Albus Dumbledore stood to make his welcoming speech.

"Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore declared to the student body. "This year, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Marlee Matlin. Some of you may already know that Professor Matlin has done some extraordinary work as a Hollywood actress, and when I made it known that I was in need of a new professor this year, she eagerly volunteered."

Professor Matlin stood, signing as her interpreter spoke aloud. **'Thank you for the introduction, Professor Dumbledore. I'm looking forward to teaching here.'**

As the Welcoming Feast began, the girl sitting next to Samantha said, cheerfully, "I'm Luna Lovegood."

"Samantha Carmichael," Sam replied, shaking hands with Luna. "What year are you in?"

"I'm a 4th year," Luna explained. "But if you like, I can show you around. I often wander the castle when I can't sleep."

Helping herself to chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a couple rolls, Sam gave a small smile. "I like to bake when I can't sleep."

Luna's eyes lit up in delighted surprise as she took a chicken leg from the platter before her and ate it thoughtfully before saying, "I know how to get into the castle kitchens. If I tell you, you can go in and make whatever you like. The house elves never seem to mind when I do it. Do you like to make anything in particular?"

Sam shrugged as she thought of her own late night culinary experiments but nodded after a bit of thought. "Cookies. Last Christmas, some of my classmates and myself got together and made dozens and dozens of cookies. We shared half of them with the rest of the school, and the rest we donated to a nearby muggle homeless shelter." Changing subjects as her curiousity got the better of her, Sam asked, "Are your parents wizards or no-majs? Uh, sorry…," Sam corrected herself. "I meant muggles. Because of Harry I usually just say 'muggle', but every now and then I slip up."

"Dad studies rare creatures," Luna replied, seeming almost surprised at how much Samantha wanted to know about her. "Mum works at Rowena Medical Center. She works on using magic to help with muggle injuries and diseases."

Looking over at Harry, who was having an animated discussion with one of the younger students, Sam wondered if she should tell her new friend about what the healers and doctors at Waldenmeyer had said. Turning back to Luna, Sam inquired, "You know Harry, right?"

"Not personally," Luna replied, clearing her plate and setting down her fork. "But I'm friends with Ginny Weasley and she's in Gryffindor as well."

Sam nodded thoughtfully and explained Harry's situation regarding his legs. When she was done, she looked inquiringly at Luna. "Any chance your mom might be able to help? I know Harry would be beyond grateful."

Luna was pensive as she mulled over Harry Potter's dilemma. On the one hand, it sounded as though there wasn't much that could be done to help if there was dark magic involved. On the other hand, Luna thought, her mother loved a challenge and this sounded like a good one. Smiling, she nodded, eagerly "I don't know if there's anything she can do, but I'll owl Mum tomorrow and tell her about Harry."

"And let's just keep it quiet for now," Sam added, again looking over at Harry. "I don't want him getting his hopes up if there nothing to be done."

* * *

A/N: So as far as my choice on the DADA teacher, I was trying to come up with an original character, but watching episodes of 'Switched at Birth' on iTunes-which I often do to get an idea of how sign language works-I thought, what if actress Marlee Matlin was really a witch?


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

At the end of the feast, Dumbledore stood to make his final announcements before sending the students off to bed. "As tomorrow is Thursday, I have decided to suspend the start of classes until Monday. This will give our new students a chance to familiarize themselves with the castle and our older students a chance to prepare for their lessons."

As everyone started to head for the Entrance Hall, Sam and Luna caught up with Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. "Sorry you didn't end up in Gryffindor, Samantha," Ron said as he looked from Harry to his best friend's girlfriend.

"Thanks, Ron," Sam replied, giving him a smile. "But I'm sure the hat had its reasons for separating Harry and I. Well, sort of separating… You know what I mean."

' **We'll still have classes together,'** Harry pointed out. **'And meals and stuff.'** Taking his girlfriend's hand, he added, **'We'll tour the castle tomorrow and I'll show you all the best make-out spots.'**

"And I'll show you the secret passage that connect Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Towers," Luna offered, cheerfully. When the others looked at her with surprised expressions, Luna shrugged. "I like to wander the halls at night."

' **Insomnia,'** Sam explained.

* * *

Up in the boys' dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, Harry stopped by his bed to shed his robes and grab his sleepwear before heading for the new door next to the entrance to the regular bathrooms.

Inside the personal bathroom, Harry noted the rail next to the toilet and a walk-in—or rather 'wheel'-in—shower as well as a three step tile bathtub.

After tossing his clothes on the chair in the corner, Harry made sure to use the toilet before changing into the t-shirt and boxer shorts he'd brought to sleep in.

Before heading back to the dormitory, Harry stared down at his lower body. The stumps of his legs were almost completely covered by his boxers. Touching what was left of his legs, Harry tried to pull himself away from the flood of emotions threatening to sweep him away. 'This is your life now, Harry. Just have to deal with it,' Harry said, silently to himself before wheeling out of the bathroom.

Watching as Harry came out of the bathroom, Ron couldn't help mentally berating himself for all the times he'd complained about some stupid injury, illness, or allergy. He remembered when he'd first met Harry and had been trying not to stare at the crutches, prosthetic leg, and hearing aids.

Now, Ron tried not to stare as Harry turned down the blankets and bed sheets before lifting himself onto the mattress and settling down before setting his glasses, wand, and hearing aids on the nightstand next to the bed before setting the watch on his wrist for the next morning.

Lying back in his own bed, Ron wondered what it would be like to missing _both_ legs… Or worse, he thought, as he remembered the initial prognosis after Harry came out of the maze last year, being paralyzed and unable to move your lower body at all.

And being deaf was no picnic, either, Ron realized as he heard his dorm-mates getting into bed as well. Although Harry was top notch at reading lips and signing, it was still easy for him to become distracted if too many people started talking at once. There were also times when Harry's signing was too fast and Ron wasn't quite clear on what his best friend had said.

His mind a whirl of thoughts, Ron found it nearly impossible to fall asleep until well after the Hogwarts clocks had struck 2 in the morning.

* * *

Awakening just after 9:30, Ron was surprised to find Harry already awake and dressed.

Holding his wand to his throat, Harry grinned as he said, "Rise and shine, Ron!"

"Blimey," Ron muttered as he managed to get up and get dressed. "You're _way_ too bloody cheerful this morning, mate." But as he finished tying his shoes, he found himself staring at the stumps that had been Harry's legs.

Harry was wearing a pair of blue jeans, but the ends were folded and tucked underneath his stumps. When he saw Ron staring, Harry's cheerful mood deflated somewhat as he headed out of the dormitory and down to the common room and towards the ramp that was set up on either side of the portrait hole.

Catching Harry before he got to the stairs to the 6th floor, Ron waited until his best friend was looking at him before he said, "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to stare."

' **It's fine,'** Harry signed. **'It is what it is, right?'**

Ron knew better, though. Harry's signing had a bit more of a snap to it than usual, an indicator that he was upset or annoyed about something.

At the top of the stairs, Samantha was waiting and she had her purse slung over her shoulder. "Good morning, everyone. Hermione said you guys would be along shortly. She headed down to breakfast about 10 minutes ago." When Harry continued down the stairs without a word, Sam looked at Ron, frowning slightly. **'What's up with him?'**

' **Harry… caught me staring at what's left of his legs,'** Ron admitted, shrugging.

"Yeah…," Sam muttered, quietly. "He's always hated people staring at him." Once she was sure Harry was well out of earshot, she explained. "Harry's aunt and uncle—the Dursleys, not the Evans'—always used to call Harry 'freak' because of the whole magic thing. Then after Harry lost his leg and hearing because of the meningitis, the teasing continued at school. Petunia Dursley wouldn't let Harry use actual crutches at home. She seemed to delight in making him hop around to do chores and stuff. One of Harry's muggle teachers kept a pair of old crutches for him to use at school, but he had to leave them there at the end of the day."

"Harry almost never talks about the Dursleys," Ron mused. "They sound absolutely horrid from what little he has said."

"You have no idea," Samantha agreed as the two started heading downstairs. "At Archimedes Academy we had group therapy sessions to talk about how we were dealing with our physical issues and it was always a challenge to get Harry to say anything about what happened to him."

When he asked about ways to get Harry to open up about his past injuries and abuse, Ron was caught off guard when Samantha stopped him, grabbing his arm in a tight grip, her expression stern. "Whatever you do, do NOT push Harry to talk about what happened. I know that you want to know," Sam went on, seeing Ron about to ask another question. "—but trust me—you don't want to be forceful. If you do push the issue, Harry shuts down, he gets super depressed, and he has a bad habit of lashing out at _everyone_. He…"

Letting go of Ron's arm and looking about to make sure they were alone, Sam's expression was one of deep-seated guilt as she said, quietly, "Harry has a history of contemplating suicide." Holding up a hand to cut off any questions, she went on. "As far as I know, he's never _actually_ tried. But before Vernon Dursley put Harry in the hospital, Harry had actually considered killing himself to stop the pain and abuse. He'd thought about jumping off the roof or going into heavy traffic… When dealing with his disabilities gets to be too much, he's thought about it as well. Like, it will be easier on everyone if they don't have to take care of him."

It took a few minutes for Ron to find his voice and after a while, he asked, "Harry… he, uh… he talked about this in those therapy sessions you were talking about?"

Sam nodded, leaning against the rail of the staircase. "Yeah, that particular reveal got Harry a 72-hour lockdown in a nearby muggle mental hospital and 5 months of intense psychotherapy when he got back to Archimedes. After that, he kept things to himself when he was having those thoughts." Before the pair continued down the stairs, Sam added, "Tell Hermione if you feel you have to, but please don't tell anyone else. But… do keep an eye on Harry. With what happened last year… I'm worried about him."

Ron's first instinct was to write a letter to his mother, to Sirius… Tucker and Olivia Evans… But looking at Samantha who seemed afraid that she'd done the wrong thing in divulging Harry's big secret, he nodded. "Okay. I won't say anything to anyone. Not even Hermione," he added, when Sam raised a questioning eyebrow.

* * *

Down in the Great Hall, Ron and Samantha joined Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione and Ginny were discussing classes while Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell were trying to talk to Harry about quidditch try-outs.

After a few minutes of one word responses or disinterested grunts from Harry, Angelina withdrew her wand and whacked him soundly on the top of the head.

'OY!' Harry mouth silently as he rubbed his head with one hand. Withdrawing his wand with the other hand and touching the tip to his throat, he frowned, annoyed. "What the bloody Hell was that for?!"

"Let me make myself perfectly clear, Potter," Angelina snapped. "I don't care if you're missing both legs! You are the best damn seeker Gryffindor has seen in _decades_ and I need you _focused,_ alright?"

Harry nodded, vaguely and turned his attention to his breakfast, reaching up as though to scratch the back of his neck, but just as he was about to turn off his hearing aids, he looked up quickly when he heard Sam yelling at Angelina. "Hey, don't!"

Angelina had her wand raised as though to hit Harry again, but Sam was holding the other girl's forearm firmly, yet without malice. As Sam looked over at Harry, she raised a concerned eyebrow in his direction.

Harry froze as he took in the scene and for a moment, he remembered his aunt, Petunia Dursley, hitting him repeatedly, a heavy wooden spoon in her hand and she brought it down on him again and again… Closing his eyes and taking a few long, shaky breaths to push the memory away, Harry finally said, "Sam, it's okay."

Sam let go before signing, **'Are you okay?'**

"I just… I'm sorry, Angelina," Harry apologized, not sure of how to explain his mood.

"I'm sorry, too," Angelina replied, putting her wand away. "I'm just so nervous about being quidditch captain this year. But that's no excuse. I shouldn't have struck you, Harry."

After a few moments to think things over, Harry added, "I'll… I'll try not to be so… So morose, I guess, is a good word for it."

"Well, honestly, after all you've been through, mate," Fred Weasley said, pensively. "—no one can really blame you for being so moody."

"He is better looking than old Mad-Eye," George added, thoughtfully.

For a split second, the Weasley twins looked at Harry, temporarily afraid they'd gone too far with their jokes, but when Harry's face scrunched in silent laughter, the rest of the group joined in.

"You know, Potter," Draco Malfoy said as he passed by the table, bringing the mood at the table down again. "My mother gave me this book over the holidays about this mad muggle scientist that makes this patchwork creature out of the body parts of dead people and brings it to life. I immediately thought of you."

Harry gave a puzzled look as he turned to his friends, taking out his hearing aids as he did so. **'I think these things are malfunctioning,'** he signed, setting them aside for a moment.

Going along with it, Ron smirked as he asked, "What makes you say that, Harry?"

Pointing his wand at his throat, Harry said aloud, "All I could hear was this obnoxious, whining sound." Once Malfoy had moved on to the Slytherin table, Harry put the hearing aids back in. **'Ahh, that's better.'**

Trying to keep Harry's improved mood going, Hermione asked, "So when are you getting your new broom?"

Harry shrugged, uncertainly. "Sirius said that it should arrive by the 12th of September."

"Then quidditch tryouts will be the weekend after that," Angelina said, nodding, thoughtfully. "We need a keeper and another chaser."

"I can try out for keeper," Ginny piped up as she finished off her glass of orange juice which promptly magically refilled itself. "And Piper McConnell was saying last night that she wants to try out for chaser."

"We'll put up try-out notices tomorrow," Fred offered. Looking at Sam, he smirked as he inquired, "We don't have to worry about you and Harry competing against each other, do we?"

Sam shook her head, shuddering at the very thought of being on a broom. "I can barely handle the airplane flight from here to New York. I've been afraid of flying for years."

Looking at Harry, Angelina pondered her next thoughts carefully before she brought up something she'd been considering since hearing about Harry's condition at the end of the previous year. "Harry, after you get the new broom, I want to run you through some drills and practices. I'm not talking about a try-out," she assured her friend and teammate, seeing Harry's expression. "You still know how to fly. I just want to see how well you handle your new broom and if there are any extra measures we need to take to prevent any accidents. Alright?"

"You got it," Harry replied, nodding. In truth, he had been thinking about the same thing but he hadn't wanted anyone on the Gryffindor quidditch team to think that he couldn't play anymore. "And don't be afraid to go hard on me," he warned, flicking his gaze over to the Slytherin table. "You know the Slytherins will take advantage." After a moment, Harry continued the line of thought. "And tell the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams the same thing." When the others looked surprised at that, Harry sat up a bit straighter, trying to put on an air of strength and resolve. "My disabilities aside… I'm still a great flyer. And if others go easy on me just because I'm in this wheelchair… it… It won't feel like a real victory…. at least not to me."

"I'll talk to the other Ravenclaws," Sam assured her boyfriend, giving Harry a warm smile. "Make sure that they know."

"And I'll talk to the Hufflepuff team," Angelina promised, eagerly. Harry seemed to be getting back to his old self and she hoped that it would last… at least until their first match.

x

After breakfast, Harry took Sam outside to tour the grounds, including the greenhouses, quidditch pitch, and Hagrid's hut which was currently empty since Hagrid was away doing some mysterious work for Dumbledore.

Once the couple returned to the castle, Harry showed his girlfriend where the classrooms were, skipping the Divination classroom as Sam had opted for Ancient Runes instead.

Heading into the Great Hall for lunch, the two sat at one end of the Gryffindor table, enjoying Panini sandwiches and French fries—a special request from Samantha.

' **It's like being back at Newton's in Westchester, right?'** Harry asked as he chewed his roast beef sandwich. Holding up a French fry, he grinned as he added, **'They even double fried the fries.'**

"Don't you mean 'chips'?" Sam asked, signing one-handed as she chewed. "That's what you British guys call them, right?"

Laughing silently, Harry threw a fry at her. **'I'm not actually British, remember? So they're still 'fries'.'**

"'Whatever you call them, they look delicious'," spoke a voice nearby.

Both teenagers looked up sharply, staring open-mouthed when they saw Professor Matlin and her interpreter standing next to the table.

"Do you mind if we join you?" Professor Matlin said aloud as she signed.

"Please!" Sam replied, earnestly, as she gestured to the other side of the table. Shooting a quick inquisitive look at Harry, she asked, "What's your house elf friend's name again?"

' **Dobby,'** Harry replied, finger-spelling the name and giving a start when the diminutive creature suddenly appeared a brief moment later. Touching the tip of his wand to his throat, Harry asked, "How did you know…?"

But the house elf grinned, knowingly. "Dobby made sure his magic is tuned to Harry Potter. Harry doesn't even need to say his name out loud for Dobby to come. And Dobby has a present for Harry Potter."

Wondering if it was a pair of socks, Harry just gave the elf a friendly smile. "A present? For me?"

Raising both hands, Dobby suddenly looked a bit apprehensive as he carefully signed, **'Dobby has been learning sign language. Dobby wants to talk with Harry Potter with his hands, too.'** Seeing Harry's eyes widen in dumbfounded surprise, Dobby suddenly backed away a few steps, afraid he'd said the wrong thing. "Stupid Dobby! Bad, stupid—" But before the house elf could start beating his head against the table, he found himself restrained by Harry's hand. Looking up, Dobby saw tears falling down Harry's cheeks, and there was a big smile on the teenager's face.

Harry couldn't believe what Dobby had said. How long had the house elf been learning this… just so he could talk with him? Looking down at his friend, Harry couldn't have spoken out loud even if he'd wanted to—he was getting too choked up. With a smile and a nod to show Dobby that everything was okay, Harry signed, **'Thank you, Dobby.'** After sniffling for a second or two, Harry looked over at his new professor briefly before turning back to Dobby. **'Uh… Dobby, could you do me a big favor?'**

"Anything for Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby replied, excitedly, signing as he spoke.

Wiping away the happy tears, Harry exchanged a look with Samantha who pulled her magical camera out of her purse. Turning again to Professor Matlin, he asked, **'Do you mind taking a picture with Sam, myself… and Dobby?'**

"I'd be happy to," Marlee responded, cheerfully as her interpreter—Charlie—took Sam's camera and stepped back several paces.

Dobby's jaw dropped as Sam pulled him into the shot. "Dobby shouldn't—"

"Dobby absolutely should," Harry insisted, holding the tip of his wand to his throat. "Come on."

With Marlee and Samantha sitting on either side of Harry and Dobby standing timidly in front, each held up their own name sign as Charlie took the picture.

After getting her camera back, Sam hesitated for just a moment before signing frantically as she gushed aloud to Marlee, "You have no idea totally geeked out Harry and I are! We are _such_ big fans of yours! I mean, you are one of the most well known deaf actors ever! This is _so_ amazingly cool, you have no idea!"

Marlee chuckled softly, flattered by Sam's enthusiasm. **'Thank you. It's always great to meet fans of my work. I just hope I can be equally inspirational as a teacher.'** Turning to Harry, she added, **'I'm also a big fan of you as well, Harry.'**

'Me?' Harry mouthed, confused. **'Why would you be a fan of me?'**

Marlee shrugged as she explained. **'Most disabled witches and wizards go to Archimedes Academy. Very few go to mainstream magical schools, especially those students who are deaf. Not only did you come to Hogwarts being deaf, but Professor Dumbledore tells me you're one of the best in your year.'**

' **I never knew that,'** Harry admitted, a swell of pride building up inside him.

' **You've also faced dangers that even able-bodied witches and wizards would find daunting,'** Marlee went on. **'You are brave, passionate, compassionate, intelligent… I imagine your parents would be incredibly proud of you.'**

Having trouble thinking of the best way to reply, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Sniffling again, he signed, **'You're going to make me cry again.'**

* * *

Author's Notes: So I want to clarify something that I mentioned in this chapter. Harry IS NOT suicidal. Has he thought about it in his darkest moments when dealing with his abusive past and his disabilities over the years? Yes. And yes, this topic will be brought up again later. Harry has never actually tried to kill himself previously in this storyline, nor will he be making any future attempts. I just want to state that for the record. Harry has had the thoughts, but never felt the impulse and drive to actually act on them.

That being said, I don't want that to belittle any similar thoughts of anyone in real life. If you've ever had any suicidal thoughts, PLEASE talk to someone. Talk to a friend, family member, or anyone else you trust. Talking is NEVER a sign of weakness. It just means that sometimes you need help to carry the load.

I love all my readers, and I am grateful for each and every one of you, even if you're not a big fan of my work or you've left negative reviews. And even if you feel you don't matter to anyone, please believe that you matter to me.


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